


The Unintended Consequence of Falling

by friendsofthemusain24601



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Chronic Pain, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:19:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendsofthemusain24601/pseuds/friendsofthemusain24601
Summary: Crowley never meant to fall. Joke as he might about sauntering vaguely downwards, the reality was much more gruesome. It haunted him every day, but more than that it HURT. And Aziraphale didn't know, he couldn't know.I.e. Crowley hides his leftover chronic pain from falling and Aziriphale finds out and helps him cope.





	The Unintended Consequence of Falling

Crowley had not intended on falling, he merely hung out with the wrong crowd. Asking God a question was enough to incur her wrath, but how was he to know until it was too late? Joke as he might about sauntering vaguely downwards, the truth was much uglier.  
It hurt. The searing pain as gorgeous, golden wings shriveled and fell down in tufts of molten feather. In their place spurted out thick wings in the likeness of a raven, not that he could focus on anything other than how he writhed in agony. 

“Please! Make it stop!” He babbled until his screams became nonsensical whimpers of misery. “I wasn’t with them, I didn’t wish to revolt!” but his cries fell on deaf ears. Before he knew it he was tumbling through the air, new wings not yet able to carry his body weight. That was the point of it all, a humiliation, debasement. God wished to deconstruct those who were foolish enough to disobey her, and she would make an example of this… Crawly.

But, the fall itself was inconsequential to the lingering pain that would torment him until the very end of his days. Imagine someone taking a knife and cutting out everything that makes you you, whilst simultaneously rubbing salt into the wound. His entire body was aflame- THAT was what forced Separation from God did. Over 6000 years later with a new name, life, and partner beside him Crowley was nearly as good as new. Nearly, but not quite, as this bloody falling business still haunted him. 

Aziraphale didn’t know, how could he tell him? Without the faintest idea of how to begin to breach that subject, and still unwilling to show weakness, he hid it. “I have a job,” he’d lie, “Things to do, people to see Angel.” he winked, ignoring how his joints ached. Tonight was one such night, limbs throbbing and everything in him feeling just- so broken. He sipped chamomile tea until even the action of lifting the teacup became too much. 

“Pathetic.” he laughed sardonically, tilting his head back and wincing when that inevitably hurt too. 

“What’s that?” a posh voice questioned from behind. “I thought you were going out.” he remarked with a raised eyebrow, “It’s rude to lie you know.” 

Crowley scrubbed a hand down his face and laughed again, trying to pretend like his shoulders didn’t feel as if they were doused in Holy Water by the movement. “It’s also rude to break and enter.” 

“You gave me a key!” Aziraphale protested, “Besides, I only dropped by to see if you had any more boxes. We move into our Cottage quite soon you see and I have a great deal of books to pack.” 

He rolled his eyes, of course this was about his books. “I should have suspected as much. Well Angel, I’m afraid to disappoint, but we will just have to go looking for more boxes tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow? Why don’t we just pop over now?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion, an action that the demon normally found adorable, but frankly he was too tired to notice or care. 

“The truth is, I’m feeling a little under the weather.” and suddenly he didn’t care if Aziraphale knew, he was just so tired, all the time. Exhaustion had its way with men and demons alike. He couldn’t bear to hide it for another second. 

At his words, immediately the Angel’s brow furrowed in worry. “My dear, are you quite well?” 

He hung his head, neck rolling from side to side in the slightest, barely recognizable “No” motion. Aziraphale was at his side in an instant, crouching next to him and placing a tender hand on the side of his face, forcing him to look up. “What ails you? How may I help?” 

He scoffed, “I lied to you and instead of being mad at me, you’re asking to help me? You really are an Angel.” 

His partner merely swept his thumb back and forth across Crowley’s cheekbone, gazing at him with soft eyes and repeating, “How may I help?” 

He averted his gaze, “You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it.” 

“Of course you do, you’re a good person.” 

The laughter once again bubbled up within his throat, erupting raucously. “This entire issue is because I’m not.” 

“You are.” he more forcefully emphasized, “Now please, dearest one, talk to me.” There was something about his pleading tone that broke that last bit of reservation within the demon. 

“It hurts.” he whispered, unable to meet his eyes. 

“What hurts?” he softly pressed, cupping his face in earnest now. 

“Everything, all the time.” he whimpered, bringing his hands into his hair in his attempt to soothe himself. It didn’t work, it never would. At long last he made eye contact with his love. 

“Ever since I fell from Heaven- since my grace was RIPPED from me there is this searing pain in me, at all times. It hurts so badly I- I can’t think straight. I can barely breathe.” 

After the confession Aziraphale was quiet for a long time, before he murmured, “All the time? How do you manage?” The demon shrugged weakly and winced at the effort it took. “Can I help?” 

The exhaustion bled out of Crowley and he responded with a hollow voice, “I don’t see how you can make it stop. It hasn’t for 6000 years.”

“Right…” he nodded as if deciding upon something. “Arms up.”

“Arms- what?” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, “You’re clearly in no fit state to be doing anything today, I’m carrying you upstairs and you are laying in bed.”

“I’m- what?” 

“You need rest. If it will help persuade you, we may do what I believe humans call cuddling” 

This time Crowley was the one to roll his eyes. “I am a demon, I’m not a cuddler. But fine, if it suits your fancy I’ll go upstairs with you angel.” He lifted his arms and wrapped them around Aziraphale’s neck, who promptly lifted and carried him upstairs. 

“Easy does it now dear.” he carefully placed him on the bed and tucked him in. 

“Angel?” he timidly asked, “I know what I said, but can you stay with me?”

He was underneath the covers immediately, Crowley resting soundly on his chest. “Thanks.” he sighed, the warmth of another’s body heat already easing some of the tightness in his joints. 

“Not to mention it dear.” he miracled extra warmth into his hands and slipped a palm under the hem of Crowley’s shirt. The latter all but melted under the careful contact. 

“Angel,” he leaned into the touch, melting into the solid body below him. 

“Is this quite alright?” his hands ceased their careful exploration.

“Quite alright?” he breathlessly muttered, “For the first time in 6000 years I don’t feel like every inch of me is coming undone.” 

The angel hummed, pleased at the prospect of helping and began to massage the other’s back, from the base of his spine to the top of his shoulders. He paid extra attention to the area where wings met shoulder-blades, adding more heat whenever a particularly harsh knot came to be. It was well worth it for the delectable noises of Crowley’s pleasure, and for the feeling of him relaxing on top of him. 

“Better?” he asked quite some time later, palms having cooled and resting on bare skin soothingly. He rubbed mindless circles, never ending his light touches and careful caresses as the pair relaxed together. 

Relaxing had done Crowley an indescribable amount of good, and although the exhaustion was still prevalent it would now be a comfortable slumber. He was entirely relaxed, putty beneath his angel’s fingers, and sleepily he slurred, “M’ better.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, removing one hand from underneath his shirt to instead stroke through his hair. “Get some rest dear.” 

For once in his life the demon didn’t protest, as he was already well on his way into being fast asleep.


End file.
